


Organized Chaos, Devilish Grin

by LondonBird95



Series: How Long For A Pour-Over? [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Businessman Draco, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 21:59:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10953546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonBird95/pseuds/LondonBird95
Summary: Sequel to "How Long For A Pour-Over?" (which I wrote a year and a half ago whoops), basically:Non-magic AU where Harry is a poor barista who ran away from home when he was young and Draco is the rich 20-year-old CEO who's infatuated with fit baristas.(I swear it's less "50 Shades of Grey" than it sounds)





	Organized Chaos, Devilish Grin

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my previous masterpiece "How Long For A Pour-Over?", which you will have to read to totally understand what's happening (I'd like to think it was decently written but it was over a year ago so who knows).  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy and I hope I'll be able to update this regularly because I'm notoriously bad at that! (current goal for me is to write about 10k-20k words).

“Really fit barista, huh?” Blaise said from where he waited by the glass door leading into the large meeting room. Draco huffed and didn’t reply, choosing instead to grab the dark folder out of his second-in-command’s hands and walk into the room, his head held high and an empty to-go cup of coffee clutched in his hand.

Immediately, five men with greying hair in sharp suits stood up from their seats and turned to look straight at him. Each of them has a bodyguard and a haggard-looking assistant sitting behind them, lining the glass walls of the conference space, and they all stared at Draco, waiting for him to speak.

“Hello everyone,” he drawled, shrugging out of his coat and handing it over to Blaise, who rolled his eyes and passed it along to his new assistant- a brilliant young woman with frizzy hair and strong opinions. Draco was quite fond of her, whatever her name was. She took the coat and turned to walk away so she could hang it up before noticing the cup in Draco’s hand.

“Mr. Malfoy, would you like me to recycle that cup?” she asked politely, interrupting whatever it was Old Guy Number One was going to say. He looked a bit miffed about it, which Draco found oddly pleasing. Looking at her, he shook his head and said, “That would be all, thank you. I need this cup.”

Blaise gave him a knowing look and the woman simply nodded before walking off to hang his coat up somewhere, probably in his personal office.

“So, gentlemen,” Draco began, taking a seat at the top of the table and motioning for the rest of the men in the room to take their seats as well. Blaise sat to his right and leaned back with a smirk, waiting to see what would come of this meeting.

“I apologize for my tardiness, there’s a terrible storm out, as you can probably hear. Not the best day to excuse your driver of his duties, I promise you,” he joked flatly, not waiting for them to react to his words before moving on. The meeting was going to be yet another marketing strategy meeting he found endlessly boring. It was always the same- “strong lettering and hard lines, that’s the ruggedness we’re trying to sell”. Draco couldn’t give less of a rat’s arse at this point. Honestly, do these people not know that in this age you had to have brilliant marketing otherwise no one will take notice of your product? If it weren’t for the Malfoy name, this company would’ve been dead in the water. He should fire them all, honestly.

Blaise’s assistant walked back in, equipped with a laptop and a stern look. She could’ve easily been mistaken for the actual CEO of this company if it wasn’t for Draco sitting in the same room. Sitting down to Draco’s left, she opened her computer and began typing what he assumed to be the minutes of the meeting.

Old Guy Number Two cleared his throat loudly before saying, “So what we were thinking was that we could market our newest line with a classic advertisement that will be hung up everywhere.”

The man sitting next to him nodded his agreement, “Yes, strong lettering and hard lines haven’t failed us yet, Mr. Malfoy. We drew up some examples for you, if you’d like to take a look.” He gestured towards the dark folder Draco had laying in front of him. Flipping it open, Draco looked over the designs- they might as well have been the same ones from the previous line, they all looked the same.  

Old Guy Number One slid a folder across the table to Blaise and said, “Here we have our conducted research of our target demographic. It shows that older men take an interest in our ads more so than other whiskey companies in the area. We’ve also been receiving positive feedback from our test groups regarding these ads. The most popular one is on page twelve. The rugged look really works well with our demographic and-“

The man cuts himself off when Blaise’s assistant snorted and tried to hide it with a cough. Draco controlled the smile about to bloom on his face.

“Did you have something to say?” Old Guy Number One asked her condescendingly, passive-aggressively turning up his nose in a botched attempt of looking somewhat authoritative.

To her credit, the assistant simply cleared her throat politely before saying, “Rugged is fairly old-fashioned in modern London, don’t you think? Trying to sell whiskey to old rich men will almost always work because they’re in a constant pissing contest and the Malfoy name has a very nice ring to it.” She seemed to realize just what she said and flushed slightly, “Excuse my language. Anyway, the demographic you _should_ try and appeal to is definitely the young and wealthy crowd. That way you don’t hurt the lucrative nature of your brand and you also open your market to a whole new slice of demographic who, if I’m quite frank, don’t care about printed ads.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, impressed with the woman. Before Old Guy Number One- who had turned positively red in outrage- could comment, Draco turned all of his attention to her. “I don’t believe I’ve caught your name,” he said to her. She smiled kindly at him and said, “Hermione. Granger. I hope I’m not disrupting your meeting, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Of course you’re disrupting-“ Old Guy Number One began, but Draco cut him off with a raised hand and a pointed look.  

“Please, I’d love to hear your thoughts on the subject some more. Gentlemen, if you would please leave us to speak I would greatly appreciate it. And next time, perhaps try and think a little outside the box as Ms. Granger did just now.”

Blaise barely contained his laughter at the pure rage on the men’s faces as they shuffle out of the room, followed closely by their assistants and bodyguards. Draco almost felt sorry for them.

Ms. Granger turned out to be just as sharp as Draco first thought she was. Her ideas for online video advertisements were brilliant and witty and with the right production company, they would probably stand a very good chance in the online market.

“So, what I’m basically saying is that if you were to film something along the lines of the timeless Grey Poupon commercials-“ she stopped in the middle of her sentence, her eyes widening. Draco followed her line of sight before landing on his to-go cup. He nearly forgot about it, if he was honest, too invested in an exciting conversation, something that was unfortunately all too rare in his office building.  

When Harry wrote his number down on his cup, Draco felt an odd sense of victory he hadn’t experienced in a while. People didn’t tend to find him nearly as interesting as Harry apparently did. And just thinking about the man- god, Draco was going to go mad just from the thoughts of him.  

He had control over most things in his life, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, control his reaction towards Harry. It was as if he was under a spell. All he could think about was his messy sex hair, bright green eyes, his pouty and chapped lips, and that wonderfully round arse Draco would just love to-

Stopping himself, Draco shifted in his chair and asked, “What is it, Ms. Granger?”

“It’s Hermione, sir,” she replied automatically before shaking her head as if clearing it, “Where did you get that cup from?” she asked, pointing directly at Harry’s scrawled number and little “x”, which Draco found a lot more endearing than he probably should.

He looked at her strangely and slowly said, “From this little coffee shop, not too far down the street. Why?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

Ms. Granger let out a small laugh and said, “Well, it’s just- I recognize that number. My mate Harry has that number, and he works at a coffee shop not too far from here, probably the same one you’re talking about.”

Blushing, Draco tried valiantly to think of something to say in response to this new information. An assistant in his building knew Harry, the very fit and very incredibly fascinating barista he had met not an hour ago.

“Well, uh, I walked into the store during the storm and he was, um, at the counter. I ordered a coffee and, uh, I asked for him number, so,” he nervously tapped the table as he continued, “he, um, gave it to me. I’m intending on inviting him to dinner soon. If that’s, um, alright with you, that is.”

Never in his life did Draco feel like a pathetic schoolboy with a crush than he did at that point. Ms. Granger was smirking at him, a knowing look in her eyes and perhaps a bit of fondness, but Draco could just be projecting his hopes onto her.

“Oh, I’m very much okay with it. Harry could use someone to keep him company. Ever since Ron- my fiancé- and I moved out of the apartment, he’s been sort of a recluse- not in a bad way or anything,” she hurried to add, a faint blush blooming on her cheeks, “it’s just that, you know, given his history, it’s hard for him to find friends. He met Ron and I at the youth home and- oh dear god please tell me he told you about the youth home.” She buried her head in her hands, “I’m a terrible friend. I shouldn’t have said that, forget I said that, please. But, um, god did I mess this all for him? He’ll kill m-“

Draco cut her off with an amused chuckle, his nerves slowly dissipating. “He told me about running from home. I assumed he found some sort of shelter. Don’t worry, I won’t tell him you shared that with me.”

Ms. Granger let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, it’s very appreciated.” She glanced at the clock and let out a loud breath, “I’m sorry to inform you, but I have to get going. I have a date with my fiancé and, well, as much as this meeting has been enjoyable, I don’t wish to miss it.”

“Go right ahead, Ms. Granger-“

“Hermione.”

“- I’ll ask Blaise about setting you up with office space for you to start working on some advertising pitches, if you’d like. I’d like for you to move to our marketing department as soon as possible, if you’d like.”

Speechless, Ms. Granger nodded furiously. “Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, this is absolutely mind-boggling. I’d love to work in that department. If you’re sure, that is.”

He waved her off. “Of course I’m sure. Go see your fiancé, Granger. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow for a debriefing, now that I have a clear timeslot instead of a second marketing meeting. I’ll ask Blaise to set it all up.”

He got up to shake her hand and she thanked him again once more before straightening her pencil skirt and pulling on her long coat. Draco texted Blaise to let him know of the new changes and quickly added Harry’s number to his phone as well.

 

_You won’t believe who I just met in my meeting._

**Who is this?**

_Draco Malfoy. You gave me your number earlier?_

**Right! Didn’t think you’d actually text me, mate.**

_I’m a man of my word._

**Who did you meet, then? The Queen? Paul McCartney?**

_Funny. Your friend, actually. At least, she told me she was your friend._

**Who???**

_Does the name Hermione Granger ring any bells?_

**Hermione?! She works for you? So your magically-dry business card wasn’t lying…**

_Not at all. Apparently, she’s an executive assistant for my company. Not for long, though._

**How come? Please note that if you fire one of my best friends I will refuse to go out with you.**

_What if I promoted one of your best friends? What happens then?_

**You did not.**

_Oh but I did._

**Great now I have to put out on our first date. Cheers.**

_Well don’t sound too excited about it… and obviously I don’t expect any kind of reward for this- she simply did a magnificent job in her interview and I’m a business man, after all._

**Yeah, you’ve mentioned. Don’t worry, it’s a joke. I might be a bit of a slag sometimes but it’s all of my own volition.**

_A slag, eh?_

**Wait until Friday and maybe you’ll see…**

_I like the sound of that. What time can I pick you up?_

**I finish my shift around six thirty, so seven?**

_Great. Send me your address and wear something nice._

**Don’t tell me what to do, Hot Shot ;)**

 

Draco will die at the hands on this man. This witty and magnificent man who is a self-proclaimed slag and who knows how to use correct punctuation in his texting- he might be slightly obsessed already.

“What’re you smiling about there, Draco?” Blaise’s voice asked from the other side of the conference room. He looked as dashing as ever in his suit, and his face was annoyingly smug. “You’ve been smiling down at your phone for five minutes without moving. Anything to do with the fit barista?”

“As a matter of fact, it does. We’re going on a date, this Friday.”

Blaise gave him an impressed look, “And where will you be taking this gentleman?” he asked, moving to close the conference room door, giving them the illusion of privacy between the glass walls.

“I was thinking of taking him to The Swan Lake, but I’m not sure if I could get a reservation this close to the date,” he said absentmindedly, already texting his assistant asking him to check the availability of the restaurant.

“ _Really?_ The Swan Lake? How badly do you want to get in his trousers?” Blaise joked, earning a middle finger from Draco, who hadn’t even looked up from his phone.

“Seriously, though, you’re sure he’s not just a gold digger?” Blaise asked, concern coloring his voice, “I don’t want you getting burned- you seem really into him.”

“Blaise, shut up. I appreciate the concern, but Harry didn’t even know who my family was when we met, so I’m going to guess he’s not after me for my money.”

Once he got confirmation from his assistant regarding a table at the restaurant, Draco looked up from his phone and gave him a meaningful look. “I know how to protect myself, Blaise. Don’t worry, I won’t start throwing money at him so I’d win his affections.”

No, he’d rather throw money at him to distract him from Draco’s less-than-stellar personality. But that’s an insecurity he isn’t too interested in exploring at the moment.


End file.
